Games
by Lola
Summary: The continuation of Yoji/Omi with a little bit of Aya/Ken added for spice. ^_^
1. Default Chapter

Games  
by Lola  
  
Author's note: Um, this is my first Weib fic so please be gentle. It's pretty sad, but well...I was depressed and angry so... if you want more let me know because I just wasn't sure if I should continue or write another chapter. Please let me know!   
  
Pale blue light reflected off a face blessed with the innocence of youth. Blond hair tousled, slept on. Hooded indigo eyes framed in girlish lashes stared intently. Slender fingers danced over ivory keys, pausing, hesitant, then resuming. Darkness hovered outside the ring of artificial luminescence. Fingers still brushed over square keys.   
A sigh escapes full parted lips. Pink. Delectable. Virginal lips.   
The swivelling chair creaks, bending backward under the pressure applied by the boy's lean back. A shadow shifts in the doorway. Tall, lanky, leaning, sensual.   
Watching, silently breathing in the scent of the room, unnoticed or perhaps ignored. Dilated green eyes roaming over the beauty of a boy's youth. Drinking in the portrait of childish oblivion. Unaware as the admirer holds his breath, waiting, as long thin arms rise above his head in a languid stretch, white t-shirt sliding up a toned abdomen.   
A sudden cramp revealed by a pouty grimace. Fingers massaging the smooth skin of his neck as he tilts his head to the side.   
The shadow takes a deliberate step forward, making his presence known. The chair creaked once more as the young boy swivelled, long legs crossed and bare.   
"Konbanwa Yoji-kun". The beautiful boy greeted, moistened lips parted in a smile.  
Darkened green eyes trailed the length of the teenager's sculpted legs. Change the black boxers to a mini-skirt and the woollen slippers to leather stilettos and you would have a woman with the sexiest legs Yoji had ever feasted his eyes on. And Yoji Kudou had seen his fair share of women's legs; enough to be considered a connoisseur.   
Plastering a lazy smile on his lips the lanky assassin greeted the boy in turn, managing to tear his gaze away from the expanse of deliciously exposed flesh.   
"Up late ne, Omi-chan", he drawled, leaning a bony hip against the younger boy's desk. Light flared briefly as he lit a cigarette. Eyes delighting in the way Omi blinked in surprise at the flash.   
Omi's brow furrowed at the scent of burning tobacco. He waved his hand in Yoji's direction to ward off the stench.  
"Yoji-kun!! Can't you do that outside?" He whined.   
The lanky assassin exhaled slowly, letting the filmy smoke curl through the darkness to gently caress Omi's face.  
Blue eyes were momentarily paralysed, transfixed on Yoji's mouth as he sucked on his cigarette, cherry tip brightening in the still darkness of the room. Omi swallowed hard. Gaze finally wrenched away. Yoji smiled.  
"How was your date Yoji-kun?" Omi asked, a slight tremor marring his voice.   
A sigh of relief relaxed the blond boy's posture as Yoji moved away to the window. Cigarette discarded to the street below.   
Keys resumed their endless typing under the darting fingers of an expert hacker. The lanky assassin positioned directly behind the boy. Arms crossed over the back of the chair, chin resting on the blue-eyed boy's shoulder.   
Shoulder muscles stiffen.  
"A gentleman never kisses and tells", a sultry voice breathed against Omi's ear. Shivers immediately whispering down his neck and spine.   
A nervous laugh escaped the youth, sounding more like a strangled gasp. Long fingers twined through short blond hair.  
Distracting.  
"Don't...onegai...my paper...I-".  
Lips reddened by wine slid across the boy's jawbone below his earlobe. Something hot and wet flicked briefly against pale skin before teeth tugged suggestively at the silver loop adorning Omi's left ear.   
"no...", voice quivering.  
Yoji let one experienced hand explore down the front of Omi's shirt, "Why?".  
"My...my hair is messy".  
Yoji dragged the back of a finger along the smooth skin of Omi's chin.   
"Where's your brush?"  
A jerk of the boy's head indicated the dresser beside the bed.   
"Omi", a voice beckoned seductively, demanding to be heeded.   
The boy's body moved as if running through water. Then he was on his bed, legs dangling over the side. The computer still hummed, the screen saver twirling across the opaque screen. Less light.  
None was needed.   
Fingers snaked through Omi's golden hair, smoothing it behind his ears. The brush followed. Front to back. Silken strands sliding through plastic bristles. Blue eyes closed, neck tilting back with every stroke of the brush. Bliss in one simple action, one motion, one rhythm.   
Every night the game is played. Pleasure, the prize.   
Blue eyes strayed open to catch momentarily on the computer. Reality. Delicate fingers trapped Yoji's wrist firmly.  
"Yoji-kun, I have an assignment to finish".  
The motion stopped. Bottle green eyes slid over cotton clad shoulders. Long limbs shifted lazily, the weight on the bed lessened. Omi's face was obscured, shadowed by Yoji's tall body. One push. Golden hair nestled in pillows. Fingers crawled beneath his shirt, easing it upward, exposing inch by tantalizing inch of creamy skin.   
"Are you...denying me?" Hot breath on Omi's neck. A blush blossomed, searing his cheeks.   
Thin lips, agonizingly close but never touching. Omi whimpered. He reached up to cup Yoji's neck involuntarily, drawing him closer. Fingers lacing through unbound sandy waves. The game be damned. Desire would triumph. Hunger demanded he claim those skilled lips.   
Yoji drew back, taunting. Gauging the effect he was having on the prone boy beneath him. His eyes glittered knowingly as he commanded Omi to raise his arms. His resolve having long since dissolved under the ministrations of those expert hands, the youth obeyed.  
Slender fingers danced up Omi's sides.  
Four eyes squinted in the sudden light flooding the room. Another silhouette in the doorway. Shocked. Eyes blinking audibly in succession.  
"Ken", Omi whispered the name breathlessly. Momentary panic. His heart raced. Toned arms still poised over his head, cotton shirt hanging off small wrists. Yoji's hands glided back down the boy's arms and chest, deliberately slow, savouring.   
Ken stammered an inarticulate apology for the interruption, eyes squeezed shut, arms flailing in an attempt to close the door and fumble out of the room. He froze as a tall sinuous body brushed against him. Narrow hips intentionally rubbing a flannel clad waist.   
"Oyasumi...Kenken".  
The former soccer player nodded dumbly, staggering to his room and quickly disappeared behind a closed door.   
Green eyes fell as they glanced back to scan the dark room, the bed was empty. Keys were being pressed rapidly once again. The pace almost frantic. A sigh. The shadow was gone.  
********  
The drone of a teacher's voice. Large eyes barely focused on the chalk scraped board. Eyes slid across endless faces, settling on the window. Hope flickered then died. The curtains are drawn closed. Dark green velvet curtains.  
The color of his eyes. The feel of his touch.   
"Tsukiyono? Tsukiyono!?"  
Defeated blue eyes closed, fighting tears.  
"Hai hai, gomen nasai Sensei".  
Hours of inattention coupled with boredom. The shrill ring of the bell. Good bye's uttered with false cheer. Feet dragged over pavement heated by the sun. Eyes downcast. Unseeing.   
The scent of orchids and smoke. A throaty laugh. Answering giggles. Meaningless conversation meant only to charm. Yoji.  
"Omi-kun!!" exuberant voices echoed dully in a distracted mind.  
Customary smile shifted into place. Not reaching his eyes. No one noticed. Apron tied on carelessly, hands attempting to ward off overeager girls. Long arms draped over his shoulders and the girl beside him. A seductive smile for the girl. A mocking one for Omi.   
Her number scrawled in red ink on a crumpled paper. The playboy strikes again.   
Chocolate eyes look everywhere but at Yoji and Omi. Mumbled excuses about soccer and fetching Aya. Ken is gone.   
A flick of the wrist, the cardboard sign flips against the polished glass. The shop is closed.   
The young boy shoved his apron onto its hook on the wall. A sigh. Blond bangs fall over tired eyes.   
"Enjoy your date Yoji-kun".   
The boy is seized by the wrist before he can climb the stairs and escape the older assassin's penetrating gaze. A rough twist and his body is crushed against the man's chest. There is no point in struggling. He doesn't.   
His lean body is bent back over the counter, destroying whatever flower was trapped beneath him. Greedy lips claiming his exposed neck. Teeth sink into pliant flesh. Ashen waves spray across young skin. Fingers soon tangle in the unbound mass, pulling in desperation. Just once. Those lips.   
Tears gathered at the corners of blue eyes. Pink lips part, panting.   
Fingers fumbled with the metal clasp on Omi's belt. A nip on a tilted chin, a whimper escaped the boy as he hopelessly tried to catch those elusive lips with his own. Youthful hands questing for the touch he so desired.  
Baggy midnight black shorts slide down sculpted young legs.   
The lanky assassin following the trail of the discarded clothing. Omi's hands gripped strong shoulders, clenching the soft fabric, the second skin, wanting, needing what lay beneath.   
His back arched off the counter involuntarily. A bony hip dug into his thigh, grinding, as the tall man stretched over his prone body once more. Emerald pools of light met the youthful gaze beneath him. Watching as Omi swallowed, the motion of his adam's apple. The excited breath. The feel of the boy's heart beating wildly, humming against his own chest. Dark eyes glittering beneath a veil of long lashes.   
Yoji's eyes closed. His lips descended. Hovering over the ripe lips of the youth. Hot breath, the scent of cinnamon. Red lips. Full. Open. Inviting.  
Asuka.  
Yoji felt Omi jolt, the stiffness in the line of the boy's back as his hand cupped his firm ass.   
His lips met Omi's cheek sloppily.   
"Why? Even now..." Omi's voice strained past the constricting lump in his throat.  
Yoji ran a hand roughly through ashen waves, trembling fingers searching desperately for a pack of cigarettes on his person.   
"Don't stay up too late ne Omi-chan," he said hurriedly. Stalking out of the shop stiffly.   
Darkness swallowed the shop and the crumpled form of the broken boy. Flowers cast horrific shadows across the walls. Each resembling fangs sneering from gaping maws. Devouring. Omi chocked on a sob as his body folded on itself. Petals from the crushed Freesia blossom on the counter flitting down. Raining drops of velvet gold.   
********  
  



	2. Games part II

Games  
by Lola  
part II  
  
  
Here's the end for all those who thought I should continue. Thanks a bunch minna!! I hope you like it, it turned out a lot sweeter than I'd originally intended but...well...I hope it's ok. The style's a bit different too...  
  
Lipstick glided over trembling lips. Red. Eyes lined in charcoal casting a haunted look. Short hair, black, newly dyed. The empty bottle of chemical colour rolls across the floor. The vision of a woman in the mirror.   
The figure stands, wobbling on black heels. Hands smooth over the folds in the cream-colored trench coat, tightening the belt around the slim waist. An earring is plucked from the left ear and tossed to the floor. Lost in the discarded shopping bags. The feminine figure kneels in the darkness of the room. Silver light hitting the mirror's surface through the window. Painted lips smile faintly in the dim light offered by the moon. Maybe now.  
Darkened lashes lower seductively, testing. Fingers brush against the cool surface of the mirror. Tracing the outline of the illusion.   
"Yoji-kun...".  
A silent plea.   
Eyes close. Red paint smeared on reflective glass. Fantasy meets reality. Shaking fingers dab at the smudged stain. Fascination at the sight of crimson tipped fingers. The same fingers dance across parted lips.  
Tears, haggard breathing.  
The mirror is shattered.   
********  
A drawn out creak of the door signals the return of two silent figures. A quick glance in the darkness before the two men entangle, hands clutching, lips seeking. Pale fingers lace through wind tossed hair.   
Hand in hand, they head toward the stairs.   
A loud crash freezes them both.   
Their eyes search each other's for a moment regretfully, and then they hear the sobs.  
"Omi!" Ken bursts out, pushing past Aya and pounding up the stairs to throw open the door to the younger assassin's room.   
Brown eyes squint in the darkness, light from the hallway streaks into the moonlit room. A shimmer. Glass darkened by blood. A crumpled form sobs, tear stained cheeks turn towards the new light. Ken gasps.   
"Omi?" Quietly asked, stepping forward slowly, mindful of the shattered mirror.   
A tragic sight of smeared lipstick and running mascara. Ken takes in the image soundlessly but a frown soon creases his brow. Asuka. Omi looked like Asuka. The clothes, the make up, the hair. He'd seen enough photos in Yoji's room to alert him to the resemblance. But why the masquerade, why hide behind the mask of a dead woman? The scene from the previous night played in the former soccer player's head. Ken sighed.   
A shadow fell over the kneeling boys.  
Framed in golden light, Aya nods at his lover, a silent communication and the situation is assessed. Aya fetches bandages while Ken scoops up the trembling boy in his arms and carries him to the bathroom. The broken glass can wait.   
Shivering, Omi sits on the counter in the washroom. The lanky red head wordlessly removes the mirror shards from Omi's balled fists. The boy's eyes look up into the sympathetic gaze of Ken as the older boy tilts Omi's chin with his hand to gently dab at the smeared cosmetics on his round face. The former J-League star wincing every time another tear slid down Omi's cheek.   
Aya stepped back.   
Large doe eyes followed his movements, "Arigatou, Aya-kun".  
"Un."  
********  
The youth sat at the kitchen table, a mug of hot chocolate pressed between his hands. Ken pushed a bowl of maple ice cream towards him with a smile. The boy's lips curved but no mirth showed in his blue eyes.   
Cold drops from his freshly washed hair slid down his neck. He shivered. Ken asked if the bathrobe was warm enough. Aya leaned silently against the counter.   
"Gomen..." Omi whispered, watching his distorted reflection in his mug of hot chocolate. He shook the cup, the image swirled then reformed. The pattern was always the same.   
"You don't have to apologize Omi, it's ok." Ken said, reaching out to squeeze one of the boy's hands reassuringly.   
Omi nodded, grateful. Silence reigned once more. Ken's gaze flicked to the red haired assassin. The tall man blinked. White arms folded over his chest. A long intake of breath.   
Outside a light rain danced on the rooftops and streaked down the windows of the Koneko. There was a stronger storm brewing in the black sky. Yoji would catch the brunt of it.   
Omi slammed his fist into the table. The dishes clattered, spinning from the table's tremor. Ken jumped.  
A cold pale hand reaches out and steadies the trembling dishes. Eyes perpetually narrowed bore into the youth, demanding order and creating it with a single penetrating stare.  
"Go-gomen Aya-kun," Omi stuttered, large tears were threatening to spill.  
"Tell us what's going on Omi," Aya's voice was a command, not a request.   
Tired eyes turn from Ken to Aya then resume studying the hot chocolate. He closes his eyes, momentarily lost in daydreams of his beloved's touch. Why? Why couldn't he kiss him? Just once, all he wanted...  
"I...I can't tell you," the boy whispered with a slight frown.   
"Daijobu Omi, you can trust us".  
Ken's voice, so worried. A deep sigh. Wet bangs like golden curtains hide uncertain eyes. In a tremulous voice he begins his tale. The scrape of wood against tile. Aya is seated.   
The youth's eyes focus on the melting ice cream.   
********  
~Long fingers brought the cigarette to thin lips.   
"Can't sleep Omi-chan".  
A pout. "Mou! Yoji-kun! Don't call me that!"  
Green eyes dancing, "I know, you wanted me to kiss you before you go to bed ne?"  
Wide eyes, pink cheeks. "What are you talking about?!"  
Slow, deliberate strides. Tobacco stick hanging from smirking lips. Lowered eyes shy away. Lips raise expectantly as a shadow falls over the youth's face. Yoji tilts Omi's chin with one slender finger.   
Quiet breathing, racing heartbeats.   
A thumb brushes over the blond boy's bottom lip. Lips part willingly. Yoji leans forward. Breath intermingling.   
Omi's eyes fly open when the warmth is gone. Yoji pulls a beer out of the fridge. A flick of his wrist, foam spurts forth in a frothy spray. Yoji's tongue laps at the white fizz greedily. The brown bottle meets warm lips in a long swig. Omi's eyes watch the older man's throat as he swallows. Long neck stretched back, golden brown waves falling back.   
Green eyes smile back in delight, "Ne Omi-chan, you were gonna let me kiss you weren't you?"  
"No!! Of course not! I -I was just surprised!"  
"Ouka would envy me."  
Three quick strides, Omi was grabbed. Yoji's fingers lace in the young boy's soft golden strands as he places another hand on his chest. Bony hips guiding. Omi's back bumps into the wall.   
Yoji's lips found his earlobe, his neck; fingers snaked through his hair and tore open his shirt. Omi's arms wrapped around the older man hesitantly, tightening when teeth sunk into his collarbone. His back arched off the wall. Body reacting automatically to Yoji's ministrations.   
The tall assassin leaned back, appraising.   
"Do you want me Omi?"  
The boy nodded vigorously, hardly believing how much he wanted to taste Yoji's lips, wanted to feel his tall lanky body pressed together with his.   
Another cigarette was lit. Smoke curled from sensuous lips.   
"Hmm...not tonight. You need to learn a few things first."  
And so the game was played, never quite giving, yet never denying. ~  
********  
Ken let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. Aya merely frowned.   
"So...it's not Yoji-kun's fault, it's just that I-I wanted...I mean...I thought that he, but he never..." Omi broke into sobs oncemore.   
Omi stiffined. Then relaxed. Strong arms surrounded him. Aya. The boy burried his head in his leader's neck, moistening the pale skin with salty tears.   
He posed no objection as his leader lifted him up in his arms like a child. Gently, Aya lowered Omi into a bed, Ken's. Warm covers and soft pillows swallowed him.   
"Sleep here tonight Omi, we'll clean your room".   
Aya's voice, strangely soft in the darkness. Ken's fingers ruffling his bangs.   
Retreating footsteps.  
Omi panicked in the darkness, "NO!"  
Ken and Aya came back towards the bed.  
Omi's hand reached out and snatched Aya's hand, "Please, don't leave me in the dark...".  
Omi felt added weight on the mattress, Aya sat down. He smoothed Omi's hair away from his face. Such a tender gesture, almost fatherly.   
"Daijobu Omi, I'm here".  
Light. Omi squinted. Ken had lit a night-light.   
Omi's fingers closed frantically on his left earlobe, "My, my earring!!"   
He started to sit up but a firm nudge from the red haired leader of Weib had him nestled back in the pillows. His eyes widened. His shock mirrored in Ken's eyes as Aya reached up and removed the gold bar dangling from his ear. Delicately. Fingers pushed away blond strands. Omi held his breath as Aya affixed his sister's earring to his left ear.  
One nod from Aya and Ken left to sweep up the shattered glass in Omi's room. Purple eyes returned to the face of the shivering boy in the bed at his side. Omi was surprised and grateful for the kindness and understanding glimmering in those dark eyes. His grip tightened on Aya's hand, desperate for any form of warmth. Aya leaned forward.   
Warm lips.  
A single tear trailed down Omi's cheek. Aya's lips, so soft. A protective kiss placed gently on his forehead. Lingering. Omi reached up, fingers caressing silken strands of red. Arms wrapped around Aya's neck and pulled him into an embrace.  
Aya let him cry.  
********  
Sunglasses pushed up into a mass of well-kept blond waves. Keys tossed carelessly. They slide across the dresser. A clatter. A picture frame falls, the glass covering splintering into a million shards.   
Yoji flicks on the light.  
He nudges the frame with a booted foot. The picture shifts. The glass falls away.   
Asuka.   
Yoji kneels. Fingers sift through the glass to gingerly rescue the faded photograph. Yoji runs his thumb over the face of the woman. A flick of the wrist. His sunglasses spiral to the floor. The door slams.  
The photo flits to the ground resettling in the broken glass stained by a single tear.   
********  
The lanky assassin sighed, lighting a cigarette. He was outside Omi's room.   
"I always find my way back to you Omi..." he breathed, smoke drifting in a cloud from parted lips.   
The door swung open. No light. A glance to the side, Omi wasn't at the computer. He stepped into the room uncertainly. The hair at the back of his neck stood on end. All his assassin senses kicking in. Something was off. What was that smell?   
Lemon?  
Thin brows furrowed, had Omi been cleaning?   
"Okaeri Kudou".  
Ken? Yoji spun around. A click and Ken had turned on the light on the nightstand. The younger assassin sat on the bed. Elbows leaning on his jean clad knees. Fingers steepled. Eyes dark, angry.   
Jade eyes studied his fellow assassin warily. Ken's body was tense, his voice laced with venom. The brunette stood, head bowed.   
"You don't even have an excuse do you?" Ken spat bitterly.  
Yoji rocked back on his heels.  
Another flare of his cigarette, accompanied by a toss of his hair, "What are you talking about Kenken?" He glanced around the room again, "Saa, where's Omi?"  
Ken gritted his teeth. A blur of movement. A rush of air. Ken's fist met Yoji's jaw with a loud crunch. The blond spun full circle before loosing his balance and falling back on the floor. Disbelief.   
Shocked. He reached up to touch his sore jaw. He could taste the blood on his lips. Ken hovered over him, flushed with anger. Yoji pulled the crunched cigarette from his lips in dismay. He frowned before flicking it into the garbage.   
"Ch." Yoji rose slowly, dusting off his pants with a pat, towering over Ken. "Well Kenken, now I'm irritated".   
The tall man took another step forward, invading Ken's space. The former J-League star seemed to loose a little steam as he stared into Yoji's chest. He looked up to catch Yoji's gaze. The older man held his partner captive in a prison of jade. One hand rose, Ken stood still.   
Yoji delt a viscious backhand across Ken's face. The brunette fell back onto the bed, cheek stinging.   
Yoji stalked forward, seizing the front of Ken's shirt and jerking him off the bed. Yoji leveled a glare Ken's way that would make even Aya squirm.  
"Explain yourself before I really hurt you,".  
Ken growled, "I should kill you for what you did to Omi".  
"Nani?"  
Ken shoved the lanky blond away.   
Shaking his head, "You just kept taking whenever you pleased, never once giving Omi the comfort, the reassurance he needed. You used him, took advantage of his inexperience and his admiration for you. Kisama..." Ken snarled.  
Yoji's only reaction was a slight twitch of his brow and then Ken realized he'd pushed the man too far. Thin wire wrapped around Ken's neck. The younger boy hadn't realized Yoji had his weapon.   
His body crashed into the wall.  
Yoji's tall body pressed up behind him, holding the wire taunt against his neck. His grip only loosening when two figures, his teammates, burst into the room, drawn by the sounds of fighting. Shock and horror rounded Omi's eyes.   
The slight distraction was all the opportunity Ken needed. Reaching back and seizing Yoji's wrist, he spun forward and bent in half, flipping the tall man over his back and sending him sprawling onto the floor.  
Yoji lay still.  
Ken charged.  
"YAMETE!!"  
Ken skidded to a stop, held by Aya's strong grip and by the image of Omi covering Yoji's body protectively.   
Omi burried his head in Yoji's chest, clutching his shirt in balled fists, "Yamete...onegai," so faint yet Ken heard every word, as did the prone man beneath the youth.   
Yoji slung a slender arm around the boy at his side, "Omi?"  
Tears sprang into the boy's eyes, "Yo-Yoji-kun!"  
Yoji's eyebrows rose in mild surprise as the boy flung his arms around his neck in a powerful hug that nearly choked him.   
Ken watched the display in confusion. He winced when Aya took his hand. It still throbbed from connecting with Yoji's jawbone. Aya brought the bruised hand up to his lips and kissed it softly. Ken blushed. Flustered. He had just made an ass out of himself attacking Yoji and yet Ken recognized the desire darkening his lover's eyes nonetheless.  
"We should put some ice on this".  
Ken nodded dumbly, intoxicated by Aya's low voice and the promise in his eyes.   
They withdrew.  
Yoji watched them leave. He sighed.   
A glint of gold.  
Yoji saw Aya's earring dangling from Omi's ear as the boy sat back, looking anywhere but at Yoji. A gentle flick sent it spinning.  
"What's going on?"  
Omi sighed, "I...lost mine."  
Omi stood and started rearranging things in his room.  
Green eyes followed every movement with a dull ache in his heart.   
"Omi...if I hurt you, I'm sorry. I never meant for things to become strange between us. I just-"  
Omi's look silenced the older man. With trembling fingers, Omi picked up Yoji's pack of cigarettes, which had been dislodged during his scuffle with Ken. He slid one out between long fingers, placing it between his lips. The flare of a match, it was lit.   
He exhaled slowly, eyes half shut, savoring. It was like tasting Yoji. The scent which always clung to him. Yoji watched those parted lips as if in a spell. Omi knelt before him and placed the cigarette in the older man's mouth. The boy allowed him to inhale once before he removed it and discarded it, replacing the addictive power of tobacco with his own mouth, still tasting of smoke.   
Lips like velvet petals against Yoji's own. He had never let Omi get this close. But now, he was helpless to stop him. Yoji's eyes drifted shut. It was innocent. Sweet. Yet more powerful than any kiss the playboy of Weib had ever experienced. And all the boy had done was briefly lay his lips on his. Omi sat back on his heels, trying to read the fleeting expression in the lines of Yoji's brow.   
Yoji touched his lips in wonder then looked at Omi questioningly.  
Young hands reached out to cup the older man's face. "Your eyes ask me why." he smiled; "I've wanted to do that for so long it hurt. I just wanted to be with you. But...I wanted you to be thinking of me because...my thoughts have only ever been for you".  
Yoji's response was barely audible, drenched in emotion, the faint whisper, "And mine for you".  
*******  
~Epilogue~  
Yellow blossoms laid by a grave. The scent of freesia intermingling with burning incense. Omi knelt in prayer. Peeking from the corner of his eye when he felt a shadow fall over his back, sending a chill.  
He smiled up at Yoji.  
The tall man stared at the young boy with interest and curiosity behind lowered sunglasses. In his hand, a dozen white roses with a single red one in the center. Omi dusted off his knees.   
He tilted his head to the side cutely and smiled so brightly that Yoji thought the light in the boy's exuberant eyes might blind him.   
"I needed to talk with Asuka," the boy explained, he smiled shyly then shifted his weight from foot to foot, "I never knew her but...I have to accept her into my life and into my heart if I want to find happiness." A wistful smile. "So I've welcomed her into my heart as a part of you".   
Yoji rocked back, speechless. His sharp intake of breath indicative of the pent up emotion that was threatening to burst through. Omi stepped away, allowing Yoji to have his time with the woman he loved.   
Yoji listened to Omi's light retreating footsteps. As he clasped his hands together, a real smile graced Yoji Kudou's lips. Petals from nearby cherry blossoms fluttered down lazily to nestle in the man's loose waves.   
*******  
On Aya's dresser, a folded piece of pink tissue paper. The redhead reached down to unfold it meticulously mindful of not ripping the paper. A shimmer of gold.   
His earring.  
A tiny note fluttered down to nestle back in the blushing tissue. Omi's hand writing. One word.  
'Arigatou'.  
Aya smiled.   
Pushing back the curtains from his window, he saw Omi returning from the grave. Yoji close on his heels. Aya watched the scene with interest as Yoji said something to Omi which made the boy stop in his tracks then run into the older man's arms. Purple eyes squinted to catch the glittering silver object Yoji offered the boy.   
"What are you staring at Aya?"  
Aya flicked his gaze back to his doorway where Ken stood, fresh and wet from the shower, clad in nothing but a black towel slung halfheartedly around his waist.   
Aya let the curtain fall, "Breakfast".  
Ken shut the door.   
********  
In the street below, Yoji stepped closer to the beaming boy before him. Running a thumb along the soft jawline to toy with the tiny silver loop adorning his left ear, identical to his own. He stooped willingly as Omi reached up and tangled his fingers in his loose waves of gold, drawing him closer. Yoji smiled into the kiss.   
He didn't care if they were in public, in the middle of the street in fact, drawing stares. He let Omi pull him closer trying to deepen the kiss. From somewhere above he thought he heard applause.   
Omi drew back flushed as they both peered up into the beaming face of Ken. Ken's applause was cut short as a pale hand appeared to snake around Ken's neck and yank him away from the window.   
Omi furrowed his brow, wasn't that Aya's window. Yoji and Omi exchanged incredulous glances before they burst out laughing. Omi clutching his sides to control his giggles. Yoji leaned against a glass display window of the Koneko, lighting a cigarette with a chuckle.   
The boy at his side, the cherry blossoms sailing in the spring breeze, the sound of laughter inside and out. Beautiful.  
Jade eyes searched the sky as ash was flicked to the pavement.   
'Wakatta Asuka...Sayounara'.  
  
  
OWARI ^_^  
  



End file.
